


Since We're Together

by SharpestScalpel



Series: Mr. Xavier's Neighborhood [4]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Happy Ending, M/M, Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, this continues to be the silliest thing I have ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2011-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:02:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharpestScalpel/pseuds/SharpestScalpel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caller ID doesn't help Erik at all.</p><p>Also, playing Daleks is superior to playing elephants.</p><p>Mr. Xavier's Neighborhood - teaching kids to be proud of their mutations thanks to their sponsors and viewers like you! And viewers like Erik Lensherr, who possibly maybe has an inappropriate crush on his children's favorite television personality. Songs, puppets, American literature, and geek references abound.</p><p>Work In Progress</p>
            </blockquote>





	Since We're Together

**Author's Note:**

> http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/5215.html?thread=6283615#t6283615
> 
>  _Someone on the last page prompted a Sesame Street crossover and I was hit with the idea that Charles would actually perfect to do MISTER XAVIER'S NEIGHBORHOOD. Some comments on the last page:_
> 
>  _He's even got the cardigans already! Perfection! and,_
> 
>  _Oh, that's perfect! I can just hear him singing "Who are the people in your neighborhood? (Statistically speaking, some of them are likely mutants!)"  
>  Hank could be a regular visitor, and people on set would be amazed at his commitment to staying in character/costume._
> 
>  _For more inspiration: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FaYR5lwzomE_
> 
>  _Would prefer gen but feel free to work Charles/Erik into this somehow. :D_

“Who are you and what do you want?” It was the third time the number that showed as an unknown caller had tried to reach him and Erik was done. He hated answering unknown callers and he hated not knowing who unknown callers were when they didn’t leave a message.

“Mr. Lensherr?”

The voice on the end was hesitant but vaguely familiar, soft like a kindergarten teacher’s voice. A kindergarten teacher… shit.

“Miss. Salvadore? I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you from the number.”

Erik rubbed a hand over his face and dared Moira (or her student, fuck, it was her office hours, wasn’t it?) to say anything about it with a scowl. Angel Salvadore, the parental rumor mill reported, had dragonfly wings tattooed all over her back. He wasn’t sure if that meant one large pair or many several small sets of wings. Though that wouldn’t actually make much sense, all things considered. Also, she was too young for him. And it was probably in bad form to have considered that sort of thing about his children’s teacher. Still. It was true.

“I’m just glad I managed to reach you. I didn’t want you to worry.”

He was on his feet and grabbing for his tote bag before he registered that she was still talking.

“It’s nothing serious about but I do like to let parents know when things like this happen.”

He’d missed something. Shit balls dammit, he’d missed something important because he’d been about to have a heart attack. “Can you go over that again? What am I not worrying about?”

Erik had learned to watch his language about the twins. It couldn’t be that again. And he’d made sure their lunches were actual respectable lunches. They ate better than he did. They ate fruit. Erik liked fruit, but he gave it all to them.

“As I said, it’s nothing serious – Pietro apparently thinks he’s a cat right now and is communicating only in meows.”

There… really was no adequate response for that. “Meows, you said? Are there any words in there at all?”

Pietro liked that damned puppet – Henrietta Beastlycat – entirely too much.

“There were earlier this morning but by this afternoon, he was down to just the cat noises. Wanda has been translating for him, though. And he’s still very polite.”

“Oh. Okay then.” What did she want him to do? “Is there anything you wanted me to do about this? I mean, I can tell him to cut it out but…” The odds of that working were slim.

The laughter on the other end of the phone was probably at Erik’s expense. “No, no, it’s fine. He’ll get tired of it. In the meantime, he does like being scratched behind the ears.”

Once upon a time, Erik and Magda, she had been with him that weekend, and some of their friends had decided to try absinthe. Several bottles later, Erik had been convinced he could see around corners. So, really, maybe he did have some frame of reference for this conversation.

“Duly noted. And, I guess, thanks for calling.”

Maybe Mr. Xavier had tattoos. Surely he wasn’t actually as buttoned up and proper as he looked on tv. If he was, well, Erik could mess him up.

“Everything okay?”

For once, he was glad Moira was there to interrupt an inappropriate train of thought. A fucking freight train of thought. “Pietro thinks he’s a cat. He’s meowing. Wanda is translating.”

It was worth it for the expression on Moira’s face alone. The spit take from her advisee was just icing on the surreal cake of his life.

***

Pietro was on the ground and Wanda was rearing back to-

"Wanda! Come here." Erik could feel the woman on the bench next to him judging him. It was a loud judgmental kind of judgment and it was making his skin crawl because he was trying, okay, and he was getting better at this whole trip to the park situation.

Wanda gave her brother, rolling in the dirt and meowing, a vicious look but restrained herself long enough to trot over to her father.

"Wanda, what did Daddy say about kicking?"

"Exterminate, annihilate, destroy?" She sounded hopeful.

He shook his head. "Daleks don't kick, darling. They don't have any legs."

Playing Daleks was way better than playing elephants. Though it had been a mistake to give Wanda the plunger. At least he'd thought to wash it first.

Wanda looked distinctly unimpressed.

"Look, it isn't my fault they don't have legs, they were designed that way."

She heaved a sigh. "Laser?"

"Pretend lasers. And no kicking." Erik thought he'd handled that rather well.

At least until Pietro's meows turned into a cry of pain. "Sticks are not lasers, Wanda!"

***

He’d only had the children for a year. Not even a full year – and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to that anniversary, unsure if he should mark the occasion somehow or let it pass unnoticed. How did one commemorate the death of a mother, especially when her children were still young enough to wake up sobbing in the middle of the night missing her?

Those were the nights, while he held and rocked the sobbing twins, that Erik was not entirely sure he had made the right decision.

But Magda had called him, had told him she had cancer and it wasn’t going to get better. And then she had asked him for a favor, the most important favor of his life.

The paperwork had been a nightmare, especially when it came to changing the twins’ last name. He hadn’t wanted to do it, had wanted to leave them with that connection to their mother no matter what happened – but she had pointed out how easy it was for single fathers to lose custody.

Especially single fathers with… questionable reputations.

So they’d become a little family. He’d broken it off with Az, with something like regret but also something like relief. It was mutual - Az had been committed to being childfree. Erik couldn’t blame him. And then Erik had driven himself to create a new normal for himself and his children.

No wonder he was obsessing over mildly (obscenely) attractive tv show hosts. He hadn’t had sex with another person in almost a year.

Objectively, Erik thought as he shaved, used his power (privately) to control the razor, that wasn't really that long. Even in the span of a person's life. Not having sex wasn't going to kill him. You couldn't actually die from celibacy. Or abstinence.

Was it abstinence or celibacy if he was still jerking off? He'd have to look that up. It might be something else.


End file.
